After weeks of preparation…new shoes and socks purchased…new dress carefully pressed…the BIG DAY has arrived! Mother coaxes and brushes every hair on her firstborn daughter’s head into it’s perfect place, giving all the last minute instructions that mother’s always do.
It is September, warm and sunny. The air crackles with anticipation. Tucking an extra tissue into her pocket, mother and daughter walk hand in hand toward their destination: the school bus stop.
The child greets her new schoolmates happily and confidently. Why is her mother’s heart pounding so?! Is it pride in reaching this important milestone in her child’s life, or is it fear of letting go…relinquishing control to someone else?
The bright yellow school bus pulls up to the curb with red lights flashing. The lump in her mother’s throat grows larger. “Bye, Mom,” the daughter chirps over her shoulder as she scurries off to claim her place in the line forming to enter the bus. No tears, no hesitation, no trauma…
How come you work so hard encouraging them to be independent, and then when they are it tears your heart out?
Monday, September 17, 2007
Our First Station Wagon
We had a beautiful, sleek, late model car before our children were born. We had splurged, after many years of driving strictly economy models. But, two weeks prior to the birth of our first child, we became very practical and conservative. Sleek and snazzy would have to be traded in for our first station wagon.
Our search began for a modest, little family car, one bright and sunny Saturday morning. We lived in Maryland, near Washington D.C. and a friend had recommended a dealership in the nearby Virginia, so we traveled around the Washington Beltway, in search of a great deal.
The car dealer had a perfect little Pinto wagon for us, complete with all the features we desired. We signed on the dotted line, and were assured it would take just an hour or so to get it ready. This was a milestone in our lives. We were excited!
Well, one hour became two, and then three, and our enthusiasm was dwindling. My ankles were swelling, we were both becoming tired and cranky. “Just give us back our old car,” we suggested, “and we’ll just go home.” Amazingly, the new car was ready and we headed home.
We were barely six miles down the road, when the right front tire on the passenger side of the care blew out. Although the road was partially under construction, my husband was able to steer the car safely to the side of the road. He was furious!! “What if this had caused you to go into labor?!” he raged. Then, he set about changing the tire. I was of little help in my condition, so I just stood nearby, wringing my hands.
Suddenly, we heard a horn honking repeatedly. I was elated. I thought, “Someone is taking pity on this poor, pregnant lady and her frustrated husband, and he’s going to help us out of this dilemma!” I looked up and was greeted with the sight of several bare behinds hanging out of the car windows as it sped by us. I was shocked, appalled, mortified!!! What else could go wrong today?
We returned to the dealership for more waiting and more, somewhat heated, discussions. Finally, we were headed home again. Gratefully, we pulled into our driveway. As I wearily began rolling the window up, it fell right back into the door. It wouldn’t budge. I began to cry.
My husband shepherded me into the house and told me to take a nap. He drove back to the car dealership alone, for more waiting and even more heated negotiating. They gave us a loaner car for the weekend, and we prayed it was not a lemon, too.
We got our Pinto back on Monday, and surprisingly enough, it turned out to be a pretty reliable little car.
Our search began for a modest, little family car, one bright and sunny Saturday morning. We lived in Maryland, near Washington D.C. and a friend had recommended a dealership in the nearby Virginia, so we traveled around the Washington Beltway, in search of a great deal.
The car dealer had a perfect little Pinto wagon for us, complete with all the features we desired. We signed on the dotted line, and were assured it would take just an hour or so to get it ready. This was a milestone in our lives. We were excited!
Well, one hour became two, and then three, and our enthusiasm was dwindling. My ankles were swelling, we were both becoming tired and cranky. “Just give us back our old car,” we suggested, “and we’ll just go home.” Amazingly, the new car was ready and we headed home.
We were barely six miles down the road, when the right front tire on the passenger side of the care blew out. Although the road was partially under construction, my husband was able to steer the car safely to the side of the road. He was furious!! “What if this had caused you to go into labor?!” he raged. Then, he set about changing the tire. I was of little help in my condition, so I just stood nearby, wringing my hands.
Suddenly, we heard a horn honking repeatedly. I was elated. I thought, “Someone is taking pity on this poor, pregnant lady and her frustrated husband, and he’s going to help us out of this dilemma!” I looked up and was greeted with the sight of several bare behinds hanging out of the car windows as it sped by us. I was shocked, appalled, mortified!!! What else could go wrong today?
We returned to the dealership for more waiting and more, somewhat heated, discussions. Finally, we were headed home again. Gratefully, we pulled into our driveway. As I wearily began rolling the window up, it fell right back into the door. It wouldn’t budge. I began to cry.
My husband shepherded me into the house and told me to take a nap. He drove back to the car dealership alone, for more waiting and even more heated negotiating. They gave us a loaner car for the weekend, and we prayed it was not a lemon, too.
We got our Pinto back on Monday, and surprisingly enough, it turned out to be a pretty reliable little car.
First Time Mother
Before you were born, I used to walk into your room at least 10 times a day. I would look into your crib and imagine what it would be like to have a “real baby” in there, along with the teddy bear and stuffed duck. I would open every drawer in your dresser, and fold and refold every diaper and tiny gown, wondering if all those ruffly things would look silly if you were a boy. I would sit in the rocking chair and imagine holding you and singing to you, and hearing you laugh and cry. I used to wonder if I’d be able to be a good mother, and your daddy wondered if you’d even like him…isn’t that silly?
Well, now that you are here, I still walk into your room at least 10 times a day. When I look into your crib, there is a real, precious baby girl in there now, sleeping so peacefully. Not wanting to wake you, I carefully open each dresser drawer, as I put away some freshly laundered clothes. Then I sit I the rocking chair for a moment’s rest from a busy day, and I wonder, “How did we ever get along without you?”
Thank you, Lord, for this precious gift you have bestowed upon us. Thank you for trusting us with the responsibility of being parents to this child. Please give us wisdom and patience and compassion as we try to raise her according to your will. In Jesus’ name, AMEN.
Well, now that you are here, I still walk into your room at least 10 times a day. When I look into your crib, there is a real, precious baby girl in there now, sleeping so peacefully. Not wanting to wake you, I carefully open each dresser drawer, as I put away some freshly laundered clothes. Then I sit I the rocking chair for a moment’s rest from a busy day, and I wonder, “How did we ever get along without you?”
Thank you, Lord, for this precious gift you have bestowed upon us. Thank you for trusting us with the responsibility of being parents to this child. Please give us wisdom and patience and compassion as we try to raise her according to your will. In Jesus’ name, AMEN.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
PREPARED, BUT UNPREPARED
My husband, Dave, and I anxiously awaited the arrival of our first child, after five years of marriage. We attend CEA sponsored “Prepared Childbirth” classes in the latter weeks of my pregnancy. We prepared our home for the new arrival, who was due April 1st. We were packed and ready to go to the hospital weeks in advance.
Well, April 1st came and went…not unusual for a first baby. Finally, on April 12th, at 10am, my membrane broke and I knew labor was imminent. We were calm and confident as we checking into the hospital at 3pm, after all, we had attended classes, read countless books and practiced breathing and relaxing techniques for weeks.
The time reached 8pm with no contractions, so the doctor began administering pitocin, to get my labor started. He also hooked me up to a fetal monitor. This required two belts to be fastened around my abdomen. One to measure the strength and duration of each contraction, and the other to record the baby’s heartbeat. This monitor was useful in predicting the start of each contraction, so I could use controlled breathing.
I remained on induced labor until 2:30am of the 13th, when my contractions started coming normally and without medication. I thought now that my labor was proceeding normally. However, after 4 hours of “natural” labor, and 10 hours of total labor, I was only 5 centimeters dialated and the doctor was very concerned. The bones in the baby’s head were beginning to mold over the top of each other and my cervix was closing up. Since my membrane had ruptured nearly 24 hours before (it’s not 6:30am), the doctor said a Caesarean Operation would be necessary. You could have knocked me over with a feather! This was not something we had prepared for. We never even considered that possibility.
I was bitterly disappointed that we could not complete a natural delivery. I was scared to death at the prospect of surgery. Although I had the option of a local anesthetic, I chose to be put out completely for the operation.
The nurses prepared me for surgery by thoroughly scrubbing and shaving my entire stomach area. Within seconds after the injection of sodium pentothal, I was totally unconscious. An incision was made vertically, beginning about 2 inches below my navel and extending about 6 inches downward. Our daughter was successfully removed from my belly, and the doctor stitched the incision. It required about 14 stitched to close. The entire procedure took about half an hour.
I woke up in the recovery room about 3 hours later. I could barely move. My arm was hooked up to an IV. A catheter was taped to my leg. The nurse was applying sterile dressing to the incision. She also massaged my stomach to help relieve gas that accumulates there after surgery.
I was still very sleepy, but anxious to see my husband my new baby. Finally, I was wheeled out of the recovery room. David and I gazed with amazement at our baby daughter inside an isolette in the observation nursery. That was another surprise…our baby was to be kept in isolation for 48 hours due to the possibility of infection from my water having broken so long before birth and all of the internal examinations required to check her progress.
The first day and night of recuperation were the most difficult. I felt so helpless! The anesthesia caused me to vomit twice. During the night I got tangled up in my bedcovers, and had to call the nurse to untangle me. My stomach ached. I hated being so dependent on the nurses. I also missed having a baby to feel every four hours, as my roommate did.
By the second morning I was up and walking to the bathroom supported on each side by a nurse. They showed me how to pull myself up out of bed with the bedrails. They encouraged me to get up and walk around as much as possible to speed the healing process. My stomach still hurt, I think mostly from the gas accumulated there. By, pain relievers were given to me every 4 hours, so I really wasn’t too uncomfortable.
By the third day I was moving around unassisted. After 2 days on a liquid diet, I was allowed to have solid foods. My daughter was out of isolation now, so she came to the room to be fed, just like all the other babies. My spirits were improving. Every day I felt better and stronger.
The real surprise came on Saturday, the 16th. When my doctor came in during morning rounds, he asked me if I’d like to go home that day. Since this was only the beginning of my 5th day, I thought he was kidding. But, he was serious. He arranged for me to come into his office to have the stitches removed early the next week.
My husband and my mother came to pick me up at the hospital. Since we hadn’t expected for me to be released so soon, it was a little hectic getting packed, gathering plants, books and other paraphernalia, as well as dressing the baby, but soon we were on our way home.
Having my mother there at home was a Godsend! Every day she cleaned my incision area and applied sterile dressings. She prepared the meals, did laundry and kept the house in order. She encouraged Dave and I to care for the baby ourselves, and offered advice, only when asked. We never could have made it through that first week without her!!
The hardest part of being at home was getting up and down. There were no bedrails to hold on to. All of the furniture at home is much lower and softer than hospital furniture. It took about a week to adjust to that. Gas pains continued for about a week, too.
Having the stitches removed was not as painful as I expected. It took only about 5 minutes. When it hurt a little, I used my Lamaze breath and tried to relax. It actually was a relief to have the stitches out. My stomach did not feel so tight anymore.
When I returned to the doctor’s office a month later, my incision was completely healed. He gave me a clean bill of health and said I was ready to climb mountains if I wanted to. He said I could have as many babies as I wanted, but that it would be wise to wait at least 6 months before becoming pregnant again. Subsequent deliveries would always be Caesarean, as well.
I do not fear the next delivery so much. I know now that a Caesarean is done only if it’s necessary…to save the life of the baby, or the mother, or both. You miss out on some of the joy of a natural delivery if you choose to be anesthetized, but you do have the option of a local anesthetic if you prefer to see your baby born. At any rate, the end result is the same. I have a beautiful, healthy daughter, even if she wasn’t delivered as we’d planned.
In conclusion, let me say that all pregnancies and deliveries are different. What I experienced may be entirely different from other Caesarean deliveries. However, I hope by sharing my experience, someone else may by just a little bit less frightened when the doctor says they must have a surgical delivery.
We had been thoroughly prepared for a natural delivery…but we knew nothing about Caesarean deliveries. It was frightening experience, mostly because of our lack of knowledge. Had we studied as much for a surgical delivery, our mental attitudes would have been much better. Next time the delivery date can be arranged in advance and I will know what to expect before, during, and after the delivery.
Well, April 1st came and went…not unusual for a first baby. Finally, on April 12th, at 10am, my membrane broke and I knew labor was imminent. We were calm and confident as we checking into the hospital at 3pm, after all, we had attended classes, read countless books and practiced breathing and relaxing techniques for weeks.
The time reached 8pm with no contractions, so the doctor began administering pitocin, to get my labor started. He also hooked me up to a fetal monitor. This required two belts to be fastened around my abdomen. One to measure the strength and duration of each contraction, and the other to record the baby’s heartbeat. This monitor was useful in predicting the start of each contraction, so I could use controlled breathing.
I remained on induced labor until 2:30am of the 13th, when my contractions started coming normally and without medication. I thought now that my labor was proceeding normally. However, after 4 hours of “natural” labor, and 10 hours of total labor, I was only 5 centimeters dialated and the doctor was very concerned. The bones in the baby’s head were beginning to mold over the top of each other and my cervix was closing up. Since my membrane had ruptured nearly 24 hours before (it’s not 6:30am), the doctor said a Caesarean Operation would be necessary. You could have knocked me over with a feather! This was not something we had prepared for. We never even considered that possibility.
I was bitterly disappointed that we could not complete a natural delivery. I was scared to death at the prospect of surgery. Although I had the option of a local anesthetic, I chose to be put out completely for the operation.
The nurses prepared me for surgery by thoroughly scrubbing and shaving my entire stomach area. Within seconds after the injection of sodium pentothal, I was totally unconscious. An incision was made vertically, beginning about 2 inches below my navel and extending about 6 inches downward. Our daughter was successfully removed from my belly, and the doctor stitched the incision. It required about 14 stitched to close. The entire procedure took about half an hour.
I woke up in the recovery room about 3 hours later. I could barely move. My arm was hooked up to an IV. A catheter was taped to my leg. The nurse was applying sterile dressing to the incision. She also massaged my stomach to help relieve gas that accumulates there after surgery.
I was still very sleepy, but anxious to see my husband my new baby. Finally, I was wheeled out of the recovery room. David and I gazed with amazement at our baby daughter inside an isolette in the observation nursery. That was another surprise…our baby was to be kept in isolation for 48 hours due to the possibility of infection from my water having broken so long before birth and all of the internal examinations required to check her progress.
The first day and night of recuperation were the most difficult. I felt so helpless! The anesthesia caused me to vomit twice. During the night I got tangled up in my bedcovers, and had to call the nurse to untangle me. My stomach ached. I hated being so dependent on the nurses. I also missed having a baby to feel every four hours, as my roommate did.
By the second morning I was up and walking to the bathroom supported on each side by a nurse. They showed me how to pull myself up out of bed with the bedrails. They encouraged me to get up and walk around as much as possible to speed the healing process. My stomach still hurt, I think mostly from the gas accumulated there. By, pain relievers were given to me every 4 hours, so I really wasn’t too uncomfortable.
By the third day I was moving around unassisted. After 2 days on a liquid diet, I was allowed to have solid foods. My daughter was out of isolation now, so she came to the room to be fed, just like all the other babies. My spirits were improving. Every day I felt better and stronger.
The real surprise came on Saturday, the 16th. When my doctor came in during morning rounds, he asked me if I’d like to go home that day. Since this was only the beginning of my 5th day, I thought he was kidding. But, he was serious. He arranged for me to come into his office to have the stitches removed early the next week.
My husband and my mother came to pick me up at the hospital. Since we hadn’t expected for me to be released so soon, it was a little hectic getting packed, gathering plants, books and other paraphernalia, as well as dressing the baby, but soon we were on our way home.
Having my mother there at home was a Godsend! Every day she cleaned my incision area and applied sterile dressings. She prepared the meals, did laundry and kept the house in order. She encouraged Dave and I to care for the baby ourselves, and offered advice, only when asked. We never could have made it through that first week without her!!
The hardest part of being at home was getting up and down. There were no bedrails to hold on to. All of the furniture at home is much lower and softer than hospital furniture. It took about a week to adjust to that. Gas pains continued for about a week, too.
Having the stitches removed was not as painful as I expected. It took only about 5 minutes. When it hurt a little, I used my Lamaze breath and tried to relax. It actually was a relief to have the stitches out. My stomach did not feel so tight anymore.
When I returned to the doctor’s office a month later, my incision was completely healed. He gave me a clean bill of health and said I was ready to climb mountains if I wanted to. He said I could have as many babies as I wanted, but that it would be wise to wait at least 6 months before becoming pregnant again. Subsequent deliveries would always be Caesarean, as well.
I do not fear the next delivery so much. I know now that a Caesarean is done only if it’s necessary…to save the life of the baby, or the mother, or both. You miss out on some of the joy of a natural delivery if you choose to be anesthetized, but you do have the option of a local anesthetic if you prefer to see your baby born. At any rate, the end result is the same. I have a beautiful, healthy daughter, even if she wasn’t delivered as we’d planned.
In conclusion, let me say that all pregnancies and deliveries are different. What I experienced may be entirely different from other Caesarean deliveries. However, I hope by sharing my experience, someone else may by just a little bit less frightened when the doctor says they must have a surgical delivery.
We had been thoroughly prepared for a natural delivery…but we knew nothing about Caesarean deliveries. It was frightening experience, mostly because of our lack of knowledge. Had we studied as much for a surgical delivery, our mental attitudes would have been much better. Next time the delivery date can be arranged in advance and I will know what to expect before, during, and after the delivery.
What I am doing...
My name is Jeannine Michele Jersey, and I am the first daughter of an amazing woman, Diane Jenkins Jersey, who dreamed of being a writer. After her death in 2000, we discovered some writings that she had tucked away over the years, and most recently, in 2007, we found a folder that even included a title page for her would-be book: Slices of Life by Diane Jenkins Jersey.
So, as a gift to my brother, Kevin Michael, and my sister, Jessica Lynne, and the rest of her beloved family, I am typing up these short stories, or as she called them, Slices of Life, and plan to give them to each family member for Christmas as a bound, bonafide novel...just as my mother always dreamed.
I look forward to getting to know her better through her own words, and bringing them to you, as I am able to type them up and post them here. Some of these stories will be funny, some heart wrenching, some are just meant to inform...but all of them come from an incredible source of wit, compassion, knowledge and love.
If you feel moved or touched by any of the following posts, please let me know...and share with your friends!
Take care, God Bless,
Jeannine Michele
So, as a gift to my brother, Kevin Michael, and my sister, Jessica Lynne, and the rest of her beloved family, I am typing up these short stories, or as she called them, Slices of Life, and plan to give them to each family member for Christmas as a bound, bonafide novel...just as my mother always dreamed.
I look forward to getting to know her better through her own words, and bringing them to you, as I am able to type them up and post them here. Some of these stories will be funny, some heart wrenching, some are just meant to inform...but all of them come from an incredible source of wit, compassion, knowledge and love.
If you feel moved or touched by any of the following posts, please let me know...and share with your friends!
Take care, God Bless,
Jeannine Michele
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